


By The Pond

by orochiis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon - Freeform, F/M, Post-Timeskip, Sparring, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orochiis/pseuds/orochiis
Summary: Upset about her looming loneliness at the monastery, Byleth finds comfort in the one person who never knows what to say.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	By The Pond

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this because we were playing around with shindanmaker in the Felileth server? yes. I do need to get better at these two though so this was a fun exercise!

Once upon a time, Byleth imagined she could very easily have gotten tired of swinging a sword around. And to an extent, that is true- the war seemed never ending, and if she never had to pick up a sword again against an enemy, she would have exactly zero complaints. But to never wield a blade again… well, she can barely imagine anything worse.

One of the reasons that this would be so heinous is due mostly in part to one Felix Hugo Fraldarius. Sparring with him has been one of her favourite pastimes at the monastery over the years. Not only has she vastly improved her own sword work (at least in her own mind), it’s been almost joyous to watch him go from overconfident student to talented swords master.

And perhaps, her reasons for enjoying these spars have shifted over the years too. Perhaps, once, it was that he put up a good challenge. Perhaps it was escapism from her worries about the war. Perhaps, more recently, it’s more to do with him as a person, rather than him as an opponent.

She could never tell him this, though. He would probably run a mile- that’s what he’s like. But these last few days of his company before he heads off to Fraldarius to be a duke have been fun – a final few spars in the training grounds that have practically become a second home to them, late night conversations on the bridge to the cathedral.

Today’s melancholic meeting takes place by the fishing pond. Byleth likes to fish, when she can. It’s relaxing, for the most part, catching small fish that will do nicely for lunch rather than worrying about feeding a whole army. She can sense Felix’s presence behind her, but doesn’t bother to turn around, trusting that he’ll come to her. And that he does, with a sigh that could belong to no one else.

“Can we spar?”

It’s his way of saying he cares; she’s come to realise over the years. Most other people would say ‘how was your day?’ or ‘I made you tea’, but Felix has never been one to value words when actions do the job just as well.

“Here?” Byleth laughs. “It’s unusual, to spar on the pier. I thought that you preferred the training grounds.”  
  
“Wherever you wish.”

It sounds like a challenge. Both of them are always armed- Felix has two swords, she the one, plus the dagger she keeps in her belt. There’s another in her knee brace, one in her collar, hidden behind her hair, and another tucked inside her corset, should it ever come to that. Byleth is absolutely certain that Felix is as armed to the teeth as she is, and even if he were not, he’s always been good at hand to hand combat.

She reels in another Teutates Loach, tossing it in the basket of half a dozen she’s caught this afternoon. Her rod goes back on the stand, the basket hoisted on her hip towards the fishing captain, who gratefully takes her day’s catch in the direction of the kitchen. She looks to Felix and draws her blade, watching him with awe as he does the same. She tears her eyes away from him for half a second, embarrassed at her actions.

This was a mistake, Byleth is quick to realise. Their spars have always been no holds barred, and this is absolutely no exception to that rule. Felix is on her within a matter of seconds, and Byleth’s parry is weak, allowing Felix’s raw strength to push her back a few feet. Is that the power of his crest? She’s never sure when it activates- Felix never makes an effort to point it out to her.

Not content to sit back and let him do all the hard work, Byleth ducks out of the way of his next swing, pivoting on her back foot to get behind him. He wastes no time in turning too, keeping up a relentless pace that has Byleth panting in a matter of moments. He’s very clearly out to win today, but she’s not in the mood to give him that satisfaction.

A smirk appearing on her mouth, she spins out of the way of what could’ve been a dangerous jab, Felix’s arm and blade moving as one, extending out towards her. There’s no need to be so dramatic, on either of their parts, but it’s half the fun. Byleth finds herself on his other side once more, relishing in his frustrated expression as he tries to keep track of her. She’s teasing him, testing his reflexes – even though the war is over, it’s still important that he doesn’t get rusty back home.

Felix keeps up his attacks, always on the offensive, not giving her time to do anything but defend. There isn’t a single opening for her to attack, but her eyes follow his every movement- the twist of his shoulder before he feints the opposite direction, the flick of his wrist as he brings his sword down upon her. The muscle in his forehead that twitches as he raises his eyebrow, as if to suggest that he’s won.

And all of a sudden, Byleth realises that he has won, and he knows it. She’s been too busy fending off his attacks to realise where she is – at the end of the pier. She tries to balance herself, but her foot slips on algae, the heel of her boot catching on the wooden planks. She sees Felix’s face, shocked painted uncharacteristically on his features, his arms reaching out to catch her, before she screws her eyes shut.

The impact from the water is sore, the water itself is freezing despite the time of year, and Byleth’s main focus is on keeping the Sword of the Creator in her hand before she realises that she really should get out of the water. She surfaces just seconds after she falls into the pond- the water isn’t that deep anyway, and there was definitely more risk of her hitting her head than there was of her drowning in there.

She manages a one-handed front crawl to the edge of the pier, where Felix holds out a hand for her to get out of the water. She takes it, a little part of her sad that he still wears those thick gloves everywhere. As she clambers onto the pier, dripping wet, her hair hanging down like rat’s tails, Felix takes off his now damp gloves, tucking them into his belt.

“Sorry,” he says honestly, sitting down in front of her as she wrings her coat out over the fishing pond. The ripples move out quickly, disrupting her reflection. “I only meant for you to get stuck, so you’d yield.”  
  
“I wouldn’t recommend that in an official spar, but it’s an effective strategy, I’ll give you that. Nothing like almost drowning your opponent to give you the win.”

“You didn’t almost drown,” Felix scoffs with a more characteristic roll of his eyes. “You’d have to be an idiot to drown in there.”

“I feel like I owe you a celebratory cup of tea, now,” Byleth says, effectively changing the subject lest Felix feel the need to apologise for the rest of the afternoon (unlikely, but he’s changed so much recently that it’s hard for her to tell what he’ll do next).

“Should I not be the one inviting you to tea, as an apology for making you fall into the pond?”  
  
“I insist. Come on, don’t you leave tomorrow? That was likely our last spar.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Felix sighs, as if going to tea with her was the most awful thing in the world. “Okay then.”  
  
There’s a hint of a smile on his face that Byleth doesn’t fail to notice as the two of them push themselves up from the pier and head in the direction of her room. The monastery is oddly quiet now, with mist of the Blue Lions headed back to their own homes now that the war is over. It’s mostly just the monastery’s staff left – Seteth and Flayn, as well as the Knights of Seiros. No one is around to spot them, not that they’re doing anything wrong.

Byleth unlocks her dorm room, wondering faintly if she should think about moving out of it soon – there will be new students at some point, and they’ll need that space. Felix follows her inside, and closes the door after her as he’s grown accustomed to. Byleth fetches the tea pot – still the one gifted to her by Lorenz all those years ago – two cups, and her box of teas. Felix’s favourite is Four Spice Blend, so she puts that into his cup and Crescent-Moon Blend into her own.

Felix sits in one of her rickety chairs as she pours water from one of her canteens into the pot, then lights a tiny fire underneath it. Turning her back on Felix, she discards her cloak and armour, and pulls off her top and replaces it with a long dress that was gifted to her by Rhea before she departed. Behind her, she registers Felix’s cough, but chooses to ignore it for the sake of her own comfort. From under the dress come off her shorts and tights, abandoned at the foot of her bed.

When she turns back to Felix and the tea, she finds his face flushed, his eyes very pointedly looking in the other direction. She did face the other way, she reasoned, and kept all her underwear on despite it being rather damp too. Byleth supposes that nobles have much stricter opinions on changing in front of others, but she still sits at the other chair, a smile on her face as she pours tea for both of them.

“Your hair looks ridiculous,” Felix says when he eventually turns his gaze from the wall to her once again.

“Oh, I suppose it does. I’ll just have to wait for it to dry, though. I know Annette sometimes uses a very small fire spell to get the surface water off, but I’m too scared of burning my hair off.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Felix sighs. “Sit on the bed.”  
  
It’s a command, not a request, but Byleth finds herself obeying without really giving it much thought. Felix abandons his tea too, finding her hairbrush on her desk and then positioning himself behind her, brush in one hand and a handful of her hair in the other.

Carefully, he takes each strand of hair, and runs the brush along it. Vaguely, Byleth remembers Jeralt doing this when she was much younger, though his hands were much bigger, and he had less concern for whether he pulled her hair or not. As great as he was as a father, he was not the most talented hairdresser in Fódlan.

But Felix treats her hair gently. Each strand is brushed out, tangles from the wind by the pond disappearing as his fingers work through it, helped by the brush. Byleth sits perfectly still, almost afraid to move or talk. This moment is special, she understands, and she’s careful to remember every tiny detail.

Soon enough, Felix taps gently on her left cheek, and she turns to face him. He runs the brush through the front of her hair too, his amber eyes never quite meeting hers, always flicking past, as if he was _trying_ not to look. It’s hard not to look at him, though, when one hand tilts her chin up and the other fixes her parting.

“All done,” he mumbles, setting the brush on the mattress.

“Thank you.”

Finally, his eyes meet hers, his lips parting as if he were going to say something. But then they close again, and he gets to his feet, walking straight past her and waiting by the door. Byleth gets up too, not wanting to let him out of her grasp, not yet.

“I have to finish packing,” he excuses. “Long journey tomorrow. I’ll not be back here for a long time.”  
  
“You’ll be back, though?” Byleth asks, surprised. He had never mentioned any intention of ever returning to Garreg Mach.

“Of course. You’re here.”  
  
He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, but he has no idea what those words mean to her. To have someone care for her, to wish to be in the same space as her, when everyone else she has considered special has left in one way or another. And okay, he’s leaving too, but that promise to come back has a genuine smile on her face.

“What’s that smile for?” Felix asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I’m just glad I’ll get to see you again.”

“Of course.”  
  
Felix extends a hand to her, looking for her to shake it. Bewildered, she looks from his hand to his face, seeing only sincerity there. Byleth takes his hand, and shakes, trying her best to mirror his expression rather than betray her own confusion. It’s not really the sort of symbol of parting she was expecting, but again, she knows very little of the traditions of Faerghus nobles.

Felix lets himself out, and Byleth watches as he walks down the length of the dormitories, the familiar teal of his clothes marking him out as he goes, until he disappears, presumably up the stairs to his own room. She hovers by her door a moment longer, staring at the space where he once was. She leans against the doorframe, feeling silly for staring after someone who was no longer there. With a sigh, Byleth heads towards her office, determined to get Felix out of her head.

Two cups of tea go cold in her room.


End file.
